Raccoons and Black and Tan poem by Wayne Jackson

“What’s it sound like?”
“Now that’s a hard’n”
“It’s like a half gallon of moonshine in December.”
He starts out low
real low
almost a growl
Ya know he’s gettin’ close
Ya know it won’t be long
so ya start to walk a little faster
and, God, the wind’s cold
ya gotta walk
and just stop long enough to pass around
the jug
and before long
ya hear him again
and this time ya know ya got ‘im
cause he open up
“Ya don’t say”
and he sounds mean
meaner’n death eatin’ cheese and crackers
even the wind stops
and ya look around the circle and smile
ya know that bastard raccoon ain’t got a chance
the black and tan done got ‘im